Dyani

Part 26

‘Dad, don’t kick me out, I don’t have anywhere to go!’ I yelled, fueled by my father’s fury.

‘I don’t give a damn! You pack and leave in one hour. You might still be my daughter but no witch will live in my house,’ he said, a little less furious.

‘According to grandmother, Mom was a witch too!’ I yelled, showing him the little book. ‘Why haven’t you told me any of this? You must have known!’

‘I knew, I don’t want it!’ His fury came back.

I saw no doubt in his eyes, he wanted me out and I would live on the streets.

‘Better pack your bags, you only have 55 minutes now!’ he said.

I felt like crying, but I needed to be strong for now. My father had sent Thijn to his room and there I heard him cry. I picked up my bag and laptop and ran to my room. I got my biggest messenger bag and my biggest backpack. I put my laptop and its charger in the backpack. The tears were filling up in my eyes, but I didn’t want to let them out. I got some clothes from my closet and put them in my bag, after that I got some things that are dear to me, like my mother’s watch and I put on my mother’s necklace. I put my grandmother’s diary in the bag and even remembered to put the charger to my phone in the bag. Just to be sure, I checked if my phone was in my pocket, my wallet and keys were in my bag. I looked around for other things I needed to take with me. I put a sweater that didn’t fit in my bag around my waist. I checked one last time when my father appeared in my room.

‘Who the hell do you think you are?’ he asked, eerily calm.

‘Your daughter, but you seem to have forgotten that!’ I yelled at him.

‘No daughter of mine would ever betray me by using magic,’ he said, looking straight into my eyes. I saw the fury in them.

‘Betray you? Like you betrayed me by never telling me I even had these powers?’

‘Your mother gave up her powers to take care of you and Thijn, since you were three we had the agreement you would never find out and she would bind your powers when you come of age.’

A thought occured, I hadn’t thought about it in a long time, because so much had happened, but now the question was pressing past my lips before I even had a chance to formulate properly.

‘Mom’s death. Why. You said it was my fault. WHY!” I demanded.

He actually seemed shocked, like no one ever went against him, never defied him.

‘It was your fault. She was backing out on our deal, didn’t want to bind you, wanted you to learn. She was arguing about it with me on the phone, it’s all because of you. If you were never born, she wouldn’t have been dead now.’

His words got to me, my boundaries almost broke, but I refused to cry in front of him, he was a horrible person. Who could ever say their child shouldn't have been born? He eased closer, small steps and a looming and aggressive stance.

‘The only thing that has helped,’ he muttered, more to himself.

I knew what was coming, but there was nothing to do about it. The first hit was in my face, he struck it with much more force than the first time. I cowered back to my bed and almost fell onto it. He kicked me in the knees and punched me in the gut. I fell down and clutched my stomach. He gave me at least three more hits on my back, but it hurt too much to count.

‘Leave! Never come back You have ten minutes,’ he whispered when he finished and went downstairs.

I put on my messenger bag and then my backpack and managed not to cry out in pain. I went one floor down and put the bags down for a moment. I stepped into the bathroom and cleaned out my stuff, it was there that Elmo came to me and snuggled my ankles. I picked him up and hugged him tight, I would miss him. He put his head against my chin and I had to let go, I still needed some things to survive and only had a few minutes left. I went into Thijn’s room and kissed him on the head. He didn’t say anything but his eyes were teary.

‘I love you, honey. We will see each other, promise.’

He hugged me and I had to go downstairs putting my bags back on me. My father was in the living room and didn’t stop me when I opened the fridge. I got out two small bottles of soda and an apple. In the large storage closet I found some bread with raisins and I got out some crackers which I could take with me. I didn’t even say goodbye to my father, I exited through the backdoor and got onto my bike, leaving his hell.

Soon I was cruising across town, not knowing where to go. I had thought I could go to my aunt’s, but they were on holiday. I couldn’t go to work, because the restaurant would be closed until four and Jennifer wouldn’t be able to give me shelter there. My head was spinning where would I go? How could I survive? Just as my first tear fell, I felt the first raindrop. It struck me as odd, since it had been sunny all day. I realised I had to find shelter with my laptop in my backpack. I found a bus stop where I put my bike against the side and locked it. While more tears and rain fell, I got under the shelter of the bus stop and sat down. No one was waiting here for a bus, so shamelessly I sat there crying like a little girl, clutching my bag and sobbing. I didn’t notice that a woman came to sit next to me.

‘Calm down dear,’ I heard her say, while I was still sobbing.

I felt how she pushed a small handkerchief in my hand and she got up. I didn’t see her through my teary eyes, I didn’t see anything.

‘Ma’am? Don’t leave? I need to give this back to you?’ I said, wiping my tears away with the handkerchief.

I looked up, but there was no one there,  I looked at the cream coloured piece of cloth. It had a small silver lining and two letters were engraved in the corner. “A.T.” I actually managed a small grin, this woman, whomever she had been, had the same initials as my grandmother. Abigail Thompson. I put the handkerchief in my pocket and looked up again. There was hardly anyone out in the streets, it was sunday off course, so what would they be doing outside. I got my phone, I really needed to talk to someone, I scrolled down a bit to Charley’s name and pressed dial. In two rings, he picked up, he sounded a little spooked.

‘Did I wake you?’ I asked, almost managing to reveal my grief.

‘A little, but I don’t mind,’ he mumbled. ‘Why are you calling me? You never call me, I always call you.’

And with that he broke the connection.